10/09/2026
I hadn't planned on making a post about any of my pictures specifically, but after a few people asked me about the one that happens to be my favorite, I figured it was time to talk about it.
There's a reason I edited this picture differently than the others, and it goes a lot deeper than most people would ever imagine.
Being a wheelchair user is hard enough on its own. Now add being a wheelchair user who bowls in a tiny-ass town with an eight-lane bowling center. There wasn't exactly a roadmap for me to follow. No one had laid out the path ahead of me. I had to figure things out as I went and pave my own way.
Thankfully, I had able-bodied people willing to teach me, support me, and help me grow. Throughout my bowling journey, I've always bowled with and against able-bodied bowlers. That's what I knew. That's the environment I grew up in, and for a long time, it was the only environment I knew.
But here's the part that still blows my mind.
I was 22 years old before I ever bowled with or against another wheelchair user.
I'm only 23 now. I've been bowling for 10 years, and it took nearly that entire journey before I finally competed against someone else who understood that part of my experience firsthand.
Let that sink in.
For years, I competed in a sport I loved without having someone on the other side of the lanes who could truly relate to what it was like to experience that sport from a wheelchair. Someone who understood the adjustments, the challenges, and the little things that most people never have to think twice about.
And that means more than I think some people realize.
So, when I edited this picture, I wanted to do something different. Something a little abnormal. Something that stood out.
Because, in a lot of ways, that's what I've had to do my entire life.
I've had to learn differently, adapt differently, and find my own way in spaces that weren't necessarily built with people like me in mind. I've had to figure things out without always having someone who understood what it was like to be in my shoes - or in my wheels.
I've had to learn by doing, make adjustments along the way, and keep pushing forward even when there wasn't anyone ahead of me showing me exactly how it could be done.
And no, this isn't about feeling sorry for myself. Not even a little bit.
It's about recognizing how far I've come. It's about appreciating the people who believed in me, taught me, and helped me get to where I am today. And it's about understanding that sometimes, your journey looks different simply because there isn't a path waiting for you to follow.
Sometimes, you have to create the path yourself.
Sometimes, you have to be the first person in the room, the first person on the lanes, or the person doing something differently because that's what works for you. Sometimes, you have to become the example you spent years wishing you could see.
And maybe that's one of the most meaningful parts of this entire journey.
Because if my experiences in bowling and in life can make the road a little less intimidating for the next wheelchair user who wants to roll onto those lanes, then every challenge, every adjustment, every frustrating moment, and every ounce of work I've put into this will mean that much more.
Maybe the next wheelchair bowler won't have to wait until they're 22 to compete against someone who understands their experience.
Maybe they'll have someone to look up to, someone to learn from, or simply someone who makes them realize they're not the only one out there.
And if I can help make that happen, even in a small way, then I know I'm doing something that matters.
I may not have had someone paving the way for me, but that doesn't mean I can't help pave the way for someone else.
That's what this picture means to me. And that's why it's my favorite. 🎳♿
